


I'm Sorry

by CloudDreamer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Clexa, F/F, Feelings, Heavy Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: Spoilers for season2 of the 100.Lexa wants to take it all back. It's been two months after abandoning Clarke at mount weather, but she still can't move on.





	I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Get a tissue ready.

[i]I'm sorry.[/i]

I reach my hand out. 

As if I am searching for someone to take it and whisper me secrets in the night like some weak lovesick fool. Like I wasn't Heda, Lexa Kom Trikru, Commander of the Twelve Clans.

I wish I wasn't, sometimes.

Titus says love is weakness and that weakness is death. It's true, I think. I still feel like I want her. I want her badly. 

I can't even say her name in my head.

"I'm sorry," I say.

I am. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I had never hurt her this way. I would wish I had never found her in the first place, except that would hurt too much. 

I rub my eyes. My tears are too visible. I am commander and Nia would love nothing more than to find an excuse to strike. It's not like they'll ever see me, though. 

I know how to hide my sobs so they do not wrack my body. I discovered how to muffle my moans so they do not betray my weakness. I have learned how to apply my warpaint over my tear stained face. 

I am an expert in the art of concealing my emotions.

Yet still. I expose my weakness through every single gasping breathe. Every time I wake up, screaming for Costia to run and now...

Now I wake up screaming with her name on my lips. Clarke Kom Skaikru. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I say, my voice cracking and I feel everything inside of me twist. As if there was any doubt that I cared for that girl, it vanishes as I try to avoid smudging my warpaint with my tears. I fail as I see a look in the mirror across the wrong.

The girl in the mirror does not look like a mighty commander. She does not even look like a warrior, although she is undoubtably me. Her facepaint is smudged and her eyes are puffy. They're bloodshot too. I see my own symbol in between my brows and I rip it off. 

I am not fit to be commander. Not with such foolishness still lurking inside of me.

Still, I find myself repeating, "I do care, Clarke." Even though it is what I swore not to do after Costia. After... Costia. I can't even think of her now. I don't want to. 

I still find myself comparing the taste of Clarke's lips on mine and the faint traces of her tongue that were left on my own to the wonderful warmth of Costia. 

Life is about more than surviving, Clarke would tell me. And I would shoot back to her, what is it about if it is not about surviving? If it's not about surviving, then why am I here? Just surviving. Living from day to day like a weak, pathetic--

"I'm sorry, Clarke," I say. My lips form her name. How could these lips that so desperately want to tell her, 'I love you' be the same ones that order death and destruction.

Blood must have blood. Perhaps love must have love? 

She always stood out from day one. Her blond hair, her bold moves, and the determination to save that foolish boy. I wanted to talk to her, but I knew that she did not understand us. A savage Grounder girl? Who was I to talk to her? 

I think I first felt something when we ran from the pauna. When I thought to myself, [i]she reminds me of Costia.[/i]

Then, as I watched her sleep, I thought about how graceful she was, protecting me and refusing to leave me behind. She would never leave her people behind.

How could I have hurt her this way? I know Titus would tell me that I have made the right decision, but, as Clarke would tell me, Titus can go float himself. I pay attention to what she says-- paid attention, past tense, even though I do not understand most of it. 

How could I have taken the deal that the mountain men offered me? I must have known that she would never have walked away from a chance to save her people, like I would never walk away from a chance to save mine. 

I knew she could get them back. That was not in the question. If she hadn't, I would have been very surprised. Failure is not in Clarke's character. 

"I'm sorry, Clarke,"

What I do regret is what she had to do to get them back. I thought maybe she would find a way to avoid unnecessary blood. Not for any reason about the sanctity of life or any of that nonsense.

"I do care, Clarke,"

But to save her from the pain that hurt so much inside of her. Enough that would make her leave her people. To push her to become Wanaheda. Commander of death. 

"Commander?" someone asked. I shout back,

"Leave me be!"

Perhaps I let away too much of my true emotion in that scream. Not anger, but sadness. I thought I was an expert in managing my feelings, but now... I don't know what I can do. Maybe I will be betrayed by a guard who has seen me crying and then went to Azgeda with the information. Perhaps there will be a civil war if the news of a crying commander got out.

"I am sorry." 

No. The spirit of previous commanders chose me for a reason, even though I do not like it.

Sometimes. 

I wish I could escape my feelings for Clarke Kom Skaikru. Instead, I am stuck here. Crying. Crying for a girl I wish I could have, but one who hates me instead of love me.

Everything I touch turns to pain. 

I want to take it back. 

"I'm sorry."


End file.
